"stingy" poems
Let me be the Angel
Who bears that pain for you
I am present in your memory
And my thoughts distract you
You will forget the pain
For that lose yourself in me
Always be ready for that detail
Which you find in a stingy bee
I shall as always tell that all is well
Entice you with my newer poems
Just lie back carefree in your bed
Feel me by the side stroking you to sleep.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
I found myself fracturing beneath his fists,
Beauty beaten in hues of blue, purple and black,
Like clouded midnight skies, full of rain.
My eyes becoming pools of stars,
Glistening with secrets of pain,
Shining dully into the darkness of our nights.
Saturated with his snide, stingy, cruel colors,
I soaked in his venom,
Becoming canvas for the art of abuse.
And wasn't it beautiful?
These tears in skin hindered no smile,
Bruises like paint, enhancing face,
Pupils shining like diamonds,
Rough and worn, but precious.
Aching bones breaking to rebuild themselves,
Tongue red with biting back curses,
Rosy lips curved and sealed against apologies,
Flesh as hard and gray as stone,
Sharpened against wicked whims and foul words,
Aren't I beautiful -
In all my rainbow tones?
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 10:43 AM UTC
She's like a drama queen,
Plays the 'blame game' like a loser,
Fair minded as a bigot,
Wages war like drones,
As free as surveillance,
As open as privatized prisons,
As equal as feudalism,
As rich as the beggar masses,
Bankrupt as homeowners,
Socialist as the military,
Truthful, trustful as "NEWS," as propaganda,
Pagan as the manufactured Goddess 'Columbia,'
Christian as the stingy,
Pious as a sinner,
Wicked as securities, exchanges on 'Wall Street,'
Insecure as an empire,
Greedy as a fast food glutton,
As brave as a fool,
Warmongering as a chicken hawk politician,
Machevellian as a coward,
As rigged as the free market,
As selfish as Capitalism,
As tolerant as Islam,
Beautiful as a clear cut forest,
Charming as a strip mall,
Forward thinking as chaos,
Lawless as congress,
United as a belligerent crowd,
Compassionate as a swat team,
Green as any petrochemical company,
Organic as pollution,
Deep as a strip mine . . .
. . .
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
touch me
tease me
please me
need me
And be greedy
Let our ***
Work us into a frenzy
Don’t be stingy
Touch me
Tease me
please me
Need me
and don’t just say it
Mean it until I feel it
Save the fake for them
Give me the real ****
Let it seep into my soul
Until I feel it my spirit
and became one
with the sum
of the outcome
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 6:53 PM UTC
Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance. Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate. Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive. Protractive analyses' dimensional delineations. Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis. Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics. Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime. Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush. Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply? Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious. Impromptu innuendo's juncture. Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital. Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies. Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary. Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties. Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain, propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued. The question remains on the tribal: how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them. It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician. Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it. Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation. Detinue perfective. Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution. Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare. Unicorn railway nails. Swarthy ******** swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC
Patterned dots, existence connects
An anther to a stigma, reproduction
The pollen withers, pollution subsides
Colonies of bees vanish in the wind
Toxic genetic food wins in binge
Mother earth cries in pain, an ail
Food chains and supplies cut short
Globalised mass production of poison
Supermarkets stocking “all season”
Consumerism monopolies swell
The environment abused and misused
Plastic bottles displaced, a chemical sludge
The haunted “great pacific garbage patch”
Littered garbage, debris and chemical sludge
Humanity displaced, dissociated and divided
Ruining sea waters , floating landfill fueled
Probability of heightened population
Global panics, mimicked maniacs
Reductions of resources to feed all
Unsustainable long windy farms
Big roads, buried bills, stingy reality
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
Benevolent Krishna blessed
Gandhari saw the dead.
Shattered stingy bodies lay
Scattered, smeared with blood.
Oh! Krishna! You are the cause
Cause of all these loss”
Sobbing Gandhari babbled, but
Krishna stood- mute and smiling
Krishna was duty conscious
What Gamdhari failed to do.
Neither a good other was nor a queen
Inpartial , she stood for justice.
Audacious Duriyodhana was brought up,
Reckless Dussasana belittled Panchali;
But ,Gandhari remained blind and dumb.
As our modernist mummy does
Justified her sons ‘nd blamed others rude.
Test-tube babies and Hostel wards
Grow up sans love in them.
Crying mummy cry thy lot; else…
Properly, morally, foster thy progeny.
Gandhari doomed the life of Panchali
Woman are foes of women-folk
No law can save, unless themselves
Do their destined duty fairly.
(A poem based on MahaBharatha story.)
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow".
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.
And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.
I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, ***** city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all
And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless ***** of feet.
And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.
And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal —
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".
3.7k
*You know if you are generous
and your read this poem
Please click the love button
It's love as easy as
One two three
Why are we stingy
When it comes to love
We are worried
The other person is
going to break our heart
Let's free up
ourselves and love
without conditions
I dare you click
the love button
If you read this far
then you are
a poetry fanatic
or some addict
of some sort
Release your anger
on the love button
and let it splurge
Thank you for your time
I hope you enjoyed my spam*
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
There was once a stingy, little toad
with fire upon its head,
a shrilly voice of ignorance
that left annoyance in its stead.
The rules it made were silly
and gave good reason to rebel.
It wouldn't let the others speak.
Why? No one could tell.
Its disconnect was obvious
when treating toads like flies.
And all pretended to do what told
until it turned its eyes.
It sits upon its lily pad
as if better than the rest--
unaware that the other toads
are, frankly, sick to death.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
Inspired by The Mars Volta
Encased in, tubular, too much too fast, written again with music in the background!
Screams now or be they babies? Here it's more with talking, psychedelic naturally!
Complete the creativity contract stingy stars stealin' popcorn RIPS, and I can feel it coming to me. Groaning, rhyming with the rather outer despite the order AND GO! Build up, build up who wants a build up? Pause.
Groove to me my Ukraine tartar! Make no sense, make it so hard you can't understand where it or was she GOING, go, go, go! Membrane skin saturate thy kin with separating spin so I can't fuckin' breathe! Correct my sins or be you scared to talk to pins though they your friends. The tack is in to lift paper from she and she can't see. Are you a man or a mouse or anthropomorphic spouse of any of these fleeing an-i-mals?! I find in the mirror myself and beer to drown the pain or discomforting disdain I can't quite get it right anymore therefore goodbye all truly universally bleeding. I say goodbye to my past and won't come to grip with it! GRIP your children's ears but it is you who doesn't want to hear. You cover their eyes because of the size of daybreak rise! Rise to the occasional borderline street sign between
Inspired by Tool
I will explode into the stars, become all of them, but all in sparkle of another's eye
I can't rip this mind any further, or else it'll break and snap and slow-mo crack
May, may, may, may you starve, breathe, sink, rise, steep, leap, creep into my parallel like a feeling
Demented in this way due to you, the closest I'll ever get
Five years, apparently not enough to forget
Five years, without you
Five years, and you still break into my dreams
Five years
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
My nandos bone
my sweet chocolate,
when I think of you
my heart goes jigijigi like a rail way line,
my slavit, you always put a smile on my face,
my fishy bone,
my sourish munch munch chocolate,
you make me whole each time I look at you,
and aah my deep voice will go singing,
'cause this undying kush kush love
is now not fading,
My sweet honey bee,
you buzz without being stingy,
oh my kush kush babe,
'ME LA VIEW' so well,
from the botox of my heart,
oh my KFC bone,
you are tasty by smile,
I love you so quickly.
My dove,
oh my sweety sour smoothies
I love you so tree much,
that my breathe gets taken away,
but my heart await your touch.
My kush kush babe,
Me la view till death comes.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
Santa was a scrooge with presents last year
He only put a walnut in my Christmas bag of cheer
A letter of disappointment I sent to him
Asking him why on my presents did he skim
He never got back to me with a reply
I have discovered that Santa is a very stingy guy
Apparently he couldn't afford a postage stamp
To put on a letter addressed to my camp
A little peeved I am with Santa this year
He'll be spending few pennies on my Christmas cheer
I have given up on sending request to him
As he so likes making my Yule Tide Season so grim
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
A little nod to Kiki Petrosino
The heart ceases to beat. Because
Some ghosts are my exes
neither angry nor kind
their faces spiral like
old windmills that clings to dry autumn leaves
looking for a place to land:
Not all ghosts are my exes
I remember them as stingy, and womanizing
Some were wolves in sheep clothing
Not smart but conniving species,
They capture your attention, like
a slow moving sunrise, then lure you
Like a vampire before dawn to have his feed:
But that isn’t all, some of my ghosts who
Walks amongst the mortal grinning
Asking to be friends, to forgive, to reflect,
Not a clever move, my ghostly friends,
just deceiving: Tactics
As a wise man once told me,
No one can hurt me without my permission…
So some of the blame, of misfortune lies on me
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
Sadness loomed
over me
spread loving yarns
around me
hiding my flesh
below warp and woof
Needles from on high
***** my stingy pocket
feeling all Shanghai
Hang um up
Consequential bannners
for Count Ceramic Time
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 7:20 PM UTC
I can't write
Russian with this pen.
This pen is stingy with ink.
I have to re-trace
my strokes to make them shown.
It makes me re-think my stupidity
before I can make it permanent.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
I claim to know the wolf,
tracking scents in the high country
though half truth requires I confess
one has never been in my sight
though in silent night,
in snow weighted pines
and fir, doubtless one
has eyed me in my folly
I have seen the coyote
scratching in the caliche
on the stingy prairies,
crouching in the mesquite
ready for the ****
whilst the hare hops by
when chase ensues
and mammal hearts race
I have yet to see
the canine succeed
the hare hides in Alice’s hole
while the mangy hunter
settles for field mice
or makes bargains with buzzards
while the flies yet crawl
on the ****
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
there is attitude as strong as my own in these kinks and these coils,
my Afro has a mind of its own.
she stands tall when she wants,
shrivel up when she’s cold.
sometimes shy,
she is not a people person.
my Afro only communicates with other Afros.
she ain’t stingy but she **** sure don’t like to be touched.
don’t you try to sweet talk her
when she’s in a rush.
only like a wash & oils.
sometimes gel and finger coils.
she’s amazing,
i love my twa.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
If trust is so sacred to you
why are you so stingy with it?
Why, I wonder can you not
forgive and move on
and allow the future
to unfold as it is meant to unfold
instead of constantly searching
for reasons to chase the past?
If trust is so sacred to you
then why will you not give it freely
and allow it to shine forth
and become a real part
of who you are
instead of placing it
crumb by crumb?
If trust is so sacred to you
then why not give truly from your heart
and let all who know you feel and see
that you carry such beauty
inside of you
instead of wearing that hateful fear
that eats you up inside?
Trust.
You say you want to trust me,
yet you refuse to really try.
Always searching for tidbits
to prove that you cannot have
peace of mind--
yet too, you are always, always
looking behind--
If trust is so sacred--
then allow the future to unfold
without strings knotted up
from the past.
No one can trust when they refuse
to look forward
rather than looking back...
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
Pertinaciously vituperative irrefragable determinism. Inscrutable axis of spontaneities’ imaginative. Perplexity’s prognosis to prospectus. Elan vital’s preternatural perpetuity. Cohesive coherency’s opaque opulence. Space-time continuum’s natural induction expressed as identity. Exponentially tangential imagination’s immaturity. Entropy catalyst blonds. Spaciotemporal telemetry tactician’s tellurian terrene. Protractive analyses dimensional delineation. Reflectively refractive positional empathy. Prophylaxis protocol. Objectified manifest's self inductive diminutive minutia iotas of interstitial edict. Graspy greedy stingy frugal mingy minions. Manumission’s indentured servant sail.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 12:52 AM UTC
Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance. Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate. Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive. Protractive analysis' dimensional delineation. Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis. Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics. Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime. Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush. Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply? Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious. Impromptu innuendo's juncture. Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital. Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies. Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary. Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties. Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain, propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued. The question remains on the tribal: how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them. It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician. Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it. Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation. Detinue perfective. Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution. Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare. Unicorn railway nails. Swarthy swastica swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
We walked through.
Stingy back alleys.
Decadent
in their fading
twilight glory.
Obnoxious dumpsters.
Teemed
with rusted belongings.
We took pictures.
Discussing technique.
In depth
connected by
secret jargon.
Enlightened meaning.
Dripped
from knowing tongues.
© 2012
Jun 27, 2012
Jun 27, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
Classic bier pose: eyes closed, arms folded over chest, everything aligned perfectly.
Peaceful, opposite of the turmoil in everyone around you.
You never did think about others at all.
In the flames I can see your body still.
Peaceful pose: gone.
Now: contortionist.
Eight-year-old Chinese gymnast,
perfect 10 I’d say, but perhaps I’m biased.
Over there the judge says 7.99;
stingy, just call it 8 even (or put the taxes in the **** score).
I think it was the stress of the audit.
That’s why your wife left,
the audit. And the hookers, you ***** *******
I’d **** on your pyre,
but all the alcohol would catch it on fire
and send it racing up to light ME,
instead of one of your nasty cigarettes.
Tax evasion, lying
(eight, count ‘em, eight dependents:
birds #s 1, 2, 3 (bird feeder pays for itself this way, don’t it?),
chipmunk, dog, the mouse in the cellar,
bird number 4 (only in the summer, not domesticated),
even the random fox), you name it.
How did you run that for so long?
Hero’s funeral, the great pyre, a pile of ashes.
Something a chimney sweep would leave,
and about as important. Did they ever find
cause of death—the wife?
Good, I helped her.
She needed a shoulder to cry on after you died,
and you sure as hell weren’t there (typical).
A pile of ashes,
ashes to ashes, etc., n’est-ce pas?
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 12:24 PM UTC
Flowing steadily, dancing on skin-
Losing control, darkness consuming-
It drips, drops, pooling on the floor-
Scent of sin stinking and bruising...
Hemorrhaging, scratching profusely-
Shades of beautiful crimson red-
Open scars from stitches undone-
Prolonging agony and pain...
Satisfying the blood lust within-
Stingy smell of primal needs of man-
Nothing beats the euphoria felt-
Flesh opens and gore gushes out...
Regret comes only after it's done-
Washing the red stains off shaking hands-
Is it regret? Satisfaction?
Either way the deed is long done...
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 1:51 AM UTC
nobody
listen
to me
for a s
econd
You a
re her
e with
me. T
akeon
e
breath
justone/
justtwo/
justthree
getting stingy
stay forever here with me
In thelights
The
crashing car
I swear I see
A shootingstar
It leads me now
to believe
Pavement is the enemy
Lukewarm god
Spat me out
So I lay still
There's stars to count
I love you gasoline
I want to soak
The flame in me
Spark enough
Just one blue spark
Then I could see you
In this dark
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC